No more Mr Jekyll
by Charcoal love
Summary: Harry Potter was a pretty decent guy, you know? Bit of a temper but considering all the shit he'd been through, he was calm and level headed really. And really, for a kid his age he was quite polite too. Except when he loses his memories.


Harry Potter was a pretty decent guy, you know? Bit of a temper but considering all the shit he'd been through, he was calm and level headed really. Had a shit childhood but learnt to deal with it, almost died more times than the number of years he's been alive but he survived. And really, for a kid his age he was quite polite too.

Except when he loses his memories.

See that shit childhood was still ongoing. And in the year between after that Goblet of Fire fiasco, there was another fiasco with Dementors. Even his cousin Dudley got involved then and well, Vernon...he always had a temper on him.

And when Vernon found out that Harry had 'endangered' his precious Duddykins' life, he didn't just talk of throwing him out. No, he came at Harry Potter with the sound of a wounded wildebeest and knocked Harry down.

Knocked him down against the edge of that new shiny coffee table Petunia had just gotten last week. And there's blood, so much fucking blood. And there were yells and screams and strange popping noises that Harry heard before it all went black.

* * *

The ceiling wasn't blindingly white. For some reason he was expecting it to be all bright and filled with light. A hospital, that's what he was thinking of. No, he wasn't in a hospital. This ceiling was a deep dark brown and ugh, spider webs all over it. For some reason he felt ridiculously depressed and heavy, like the weight of the world was weighing down upon him. Fuck, but this was an ugly house. He closed his eyes to get away from all that fucking ugly dankness. Lord, but he had a shitty room.

His eyes flew open at the thought.

Fuck, was this his room? Why didn't he remember if it was? Wait, who the fuck _was_ he?

What the fuck was his name? He was a 'he', right?

He tossed the blanket back, felt around his bits, and sighed in relief.

Thank fuck, at least he was remembering that little bit right.

And then the door flew open and what appeared to be a strange brown bush shaped entity entered.

"Harry, are you alright? Molly said that the monitoring charms went off and-AH!"

The bush shaped entity was apparently a girl. A loud girl who was looking at him with a strange expression on her face.

"Hermione what happened-AH!" Another weird thing came in, this time a boy with hair so red and a face soon matching it, there was no way he had a soul. He was the most ginger of all gingers. "Mate...mind putting Little Harry away?"

He was confused until he realised he was fondling himself still. Then he tucked himself away (gently, this was the only thing he had remembered and he had to take good care of it) and cleared his throat.

"Who the fuck are you lot?"

The Bush and the Ginger King gaped. The Bush hesitantly started talking. "Harry you...don't you remember us?"

"...My name is Harry?"

"Sweet Merlin, we're fucked." The Ginger King gasped out while the Bush ran off yelling 'HEADMASTER!'. High-strung bint, wasn't she?

"Ah, Mr Potter you've woken up." An old man swept into the room next with twinkling eyes that creeped him out and the most loud and garish dress he could imagine. In fact, he spent a few seconds trying to think of something that screamed 'Ponce!' more than the spangled velvet violet dress with the magenta lining but failed. That was a shit ugly dress.

"Who the fuck are you?"

The Ginger King looked scared and horrified, wide eyes darting between the two. For a moment he looked like he was going to faint.

It was actually quite amusing.

"I'm Dumbledore, and you are Harry Potter." The twinkle got twinklier and a slight headache started to annoy him. He rubbed his head and the old man just kept on staring, the fucking pervert.

"R-Ronald Weasley." The Ginger King said, still shocked. "Your best mate."

Well, fuck.

"I see that you have lost your memories Mr Potter." The Pervert Grandpa said and he shifted back on the bed, hand groping behind him for something he could use as a weapon. He had already noticed that the room had no windows and they were blocking the one exit.

"Yeah well-," He burst into a coughing fit and then flinched as the Pervert and the Ginger stepped towards him.

"Perhaps some water is in order," The old man said and waved a stick at the tale beside the bed he was on and a glass of water suddenly appeared.

"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!"

"That, Mr Potter, was magic."

Well, bugger him sideways.

* * *

 _Day 4 at this 'Grimmauld Place'_

 _Have discovered that name is Harry Potter. Am somewhat important apparently. No one tells me shit but I see them putting newspapers away when they see me. Spotted name in article before paper was thrown out._

 _Magic is apparently real. I am magical. They tell me I am a wizard and attend a school for Witchcraft and Wizardry. They're not telling me anything else. Wankers._

 _Have found out little things though. Am an orphan. Parents killed by some cunt named Voltimore. Have an apparently innocent Godfather who's a felon on the run. Fucking cunts didn't even give him a trial._

 _Grimmauld is Sirius-the godfather's house. Apparently the secret headquarters of some vigilante group. Sirius is okay, more fun than the other wankers. He's not happy that that Weasley harpy took over his house. I told him it was his fault for letting gingers into his house. He told me my mum was one._

 _Hermione's the Bushy one. Annoying bint, keeps screeching. Doesn't like it when I call her Herman. So I call her Herman a lot. Has stopped following me around and screeching now, thank god._

 _Ron is apparently my best friend. Don't know why though, keeps talking about this Quidditch thing a lot. Stopped listening one hour in. Hasn't noticed that yet. Maybe he mortgaged his brain for his soul?_

 _Dumbledore is headmaster at the school and apparently pretty important. Everyone kisses his arse even when he's not there. When I asked why he didn't get Sirius a trial if he was so important they made excuses and pretty much started deepthroating. And they have the nerve to chew me out for flirting with Tonks. Wankers. Especially that Snape guy._

 _Sirius, Gred and Forge are the only okay ones in the lot. That werewolf guy is alright too. Bit of a downer though._

 _The rest can go suck cocks. Already gagging on Dumbledore's anyway._

* * *

"Ah Harry, my dear boy, we need to have a bit of a chat."

"Sure," Dumbledore's face lit up. "As long as Sirius can be there." And it fell down.

Harry tried hard not to think of why the old man wanted to be alone with him so bad. The rest sent him disapproving looks and what not but Sirius beamed.

"Harry, are sure you need him to be there?" The Weasley harpy cajoled him, shooting a glare at Sirius.

"Think it was pretty clear I was sure about that when I _asked_ for him to be there." Harry drawled and the hag blushed. "Should I have spoken more slowly? I thought it was easy to understand though, right Sirius?"

Sirius' face was lit up with satisfaction. " _I_ understood you."

Finally they left, leaving Dumbledore, Sirius and Harry at the table.

"I had hoped for your memory to return by now, even if only a bit. Unfortunately, Poppy thinks that might never happen." Dumbledore announced with deep regret. "There are some things you need to know and they cannot be put off anymore."

Harry leaned forward in his seat, expecting something about his life. Maybe he had a girlfriend somewhere who was concerned about him? Or he could finally leave the house to go somewhere to jog his memories?

"Underage wizards aren't allowed to use magic outside of school." Harry frowned. This was not what he was expecting. "But during the summer a Dementor found its way to your house and you defended yourself using magic. Your trial is tomorrow."

Harry froze. "You fucking cunts."


End file.
